Learning to Follow
by artemisgirl
Summary: Hermione finds a Draco Malfoy who's lost in a changing world after the war. If he can learn to follow, instead of lead, maybe she can help him learn about what all the world has to offer, and if they're lucky, maybe even help lead them both onto a new path. Oneshot. Dramione. Written for Round 2 of the QLFC Season 7.


A/N: Written for Round 2 of the QLFC, as Chaser 3 of the Kenmare Kestrels. My prompt was: **Write about someone who's always been a leader (explicitly or otherwise) having to learn to follow someone else. **Additional prompts chosen were: 2. (theme) struggling to differentiate between fantasy and reality [Pisces]; 3. (word) blazing; and 14. (emotion) regret.

* * *

"You've… _never_ been to the Muggle world?"

Hermione couldn't keep the shock from her voice. Draco Malfoy's mouth pinched tighter. For a moment, Hermione thought he would lash out with a cruel insult, a mean retort.

And then…

Draco took a deep breath, held it, and let it out.

"Never, Granger," he said steadily, holding her gaze. "Not once."

_How?_ Hermione wanted to ask. But she already knew the answer – his blood-purist parents would have never allowed it. A significant issue, now, now that Draco was required to pass a Muggle Empathy test at the Ministry as part of his probation.

Hermione bit her lip. She wasn't the most comfortable with Draco after the war, but she _was_ Head Girl.

"I… yes, I can help you," she finally said, sighing. "Did they give you a rubric or anything? A list of what to study?"

Draco wordlessly handed over a sheet of parchment, and Hermione took it from him to read over, her eyes scanning the paper, before glancing over the edge to look at him. Draco was sitting quietly, glancing around the library, waiting for her to finish and turn back to him.

It was different, Hermione thought, to see Draco Malfoy like this.

Draco had always been a leader. Groomed from birth by his father to be one of the reigning wizard aristocracy, Draco Malfoy had always bossed other people around. He had been the leader of Slytherin house for most of Hogwarts; even as a first year, he'd recruited two minions to boss around. He'd had the sort of easy, lazy gait and posture that just _oozed_ confidence, born of his upbringing and _knowing_ that he had a place in the wizarding world.

And then the war had happened.

What place Draco had once held in society was tarnished. Gone was the self-assuredness and cockiness from his youth; left in its place was a quiet hesitance, an unsureness in his manner and gait. Instead of strutting around like he owned the place, he walked quietly in the shadows, slipping from view as often as he could. It was the first time he'd ever had to _work_ for recognition and acceptance, to earn a place in society, and Hermione could tell that even though it had only been six months, the experience had changed him.

Oh, he still looked the same – tall, pale, and far more attractive than he had any right to be, in Hermione's opinion. But his behavior had changed.

He was politer, for one, and quieter. He thought through what he had to say before he said it, and he didn't presume anymore that people cared about his opinion. Even more, Hermione had seen him quietly helping the first years around the castle, including the Muggle-borns, explaining things and helping them if they were lost.

Hermione wondered if he felt lost himself.

To be raised, knowing your place… and then to have it all swept away…

She cleared her throat, and Draco turned his eyes back to her.

"I can help you with all of this," she told him.

Draco's eyes widened. "_All_ of it?"

Hermione gave him a wry grin.

"Don't thank me yet," she told him. She took a deep breath and dropped the bomb: "We're going to need to go into Muggle London."

She'd expected a look of horror, of disgust, of incredulousness.

What she didn't expect was the brief flash of _fear_ over his face, before it was quickly smoothed away.

"Right," Draco said. He took a deep breath. "Okay. That makes sense."

Even as he tried to hold himself still, Hermione could see he was shaking. Impulsively, Hermione reached out and took his hand, holding it in her own.

"It'll be okay, Draco," she said, offering him a small smile. "After all, you won't be alone."

Draco's eyes had widened when she took his hand, and now he turned his eyes to her, subtle wariness and confusion warring across his face.

"I won't?" he asked. His voice sounded painfully vulnerable, and Hermione's heart went out to him.

"Of course not, silly," she said gently, offering Draco's hand a squeeze. "You'll have me, every step of the way."

* * *

Draco Malfoy seemed perfectly content to follow Hermione's lead and let her plan out his 'curriculum' to be learned. He had agreed easily enough that the majority of his education should take place over the upcoming Christmas break, and he hadn't objected to her getting him a set of Muggle winter clothes to wear out in public the first day. It was almost nice, with him seeming to trust her to set up the details.

The first major objection from Draco came when they were discussing logistics.

"So we'll take the Hogwarts Express back to town, and then you'll come with me to my house. We'll relax there, and then the next day-"

"Wait, _what?_" Draco cut her off. "We'll go _where?_"

"My house," Hermione said, puzzled. "It's in Muggle London."

"I can't stay at your house!" he objected loudly, looking horrified.

Hermione put her hands on her hips annoyed. "Then where did you imagine we were going to stay?" she snapped. "You can't possibly imagine I'd be willing to stay at your manor-"

"That's not it!" Draco threw his hands up. "The _location_ doesn't matter; the _staying_ does. We can't stay together _anywhere._"

Hermione recoiled, struck.

"I- I thought-" she faltered. She bit her lip, hard, willing it to stop wobbling. She carried on, determinedly not looking at him. "I- I'd thought… You were so kind, now… I didn't realize blood status still mattered to you anymore-"

"_What?_" Draco's eyes widened in alarm. "What? No! _No_, that's not it!"

"What is it, then?" Hermione demanded, furious tears clinging to her lashes. "What about me is so horrible you can't stand to be near me for a couple weeks?"

Draco looked flustered under her glare. Hermione waited, and Draco swallowed, hard.

"We're both unmarried and of an adult age. It- It wouldn't be appropriate, to stay with you unchaperoned like that. It could damage your reputation, if it got out." He looked at her seriously, his silver eyes holding hers. "And I wouldn't do that to you, Hermione. I wouldn't do that to you."

Hermione stared at him, and then burst into laughter.

"I'm serious!" Draco objected, Hermione still laughing. "I know you said you have your own place, but I can't imagine your parents taking kindly to a man impugning your honor like that-"

"Oh, Draco," Hermione said, wiping tears of laughter from the corners of her eyes. "Draco, _no one_ in Muggle England has worried about nonsense like that for nearly a century."

"I'm sure your parents still won't appreciate an unmarried man staying with their daughter over the holidays," Draco said, but Hermione waved his protests away.

"I haven't got parents anymore," she said, dismissive. "And anyway, it's not like you'd ever want to _do_ dishonorable things with me-"

Draco made a sudden choking sound, before he started coughing.

"-so even if word got out, no one would believe it," Hermione finished. She peered at him. "Are you alright?"

Draco coughed again. "I- yes. Ah, sorry. Something went down the wrong way."

He coughed again, then sighed.

"So," he said, concession in his voice. "You were saying about how we would be staying at your house…?"

Hermione beamed.

* * *

When planning their excursions, Hermione hadn't thought it'd be _easy_ for Draco to follow her lead, but she didn't think it'd be this much of a struggle.

Especially not on the first day.

"Come _on_," she said. "We need to cross the intersection."

Draco gave her a wide-eyed look. He was clearly terrified.

"No," he said flatly. "Absolutely not. I am not getting run over by one of their iron death machines."

"They're _not_ death machines, they're just cars," Hermione said. "And they all _stop_, at the stop light. See?"

"But what if they _don't_ stop?" Draco retorted. "What then?"

"They _will_ stop," she insisted. "Watch."

The light changed, the cars stopped, and the crosswalk signal lit up.

"See?" Hermione said pointedly, grabbing his hand. "Now come _on_."

She tugged him across the intersection, Draco's footsteps faltering behind hers, but following along behind her all the same.

Once they'd crossed, she turned to look at him.

"See?" she said gently. "That wasn't so bad."

Draco was staring at their connected hands. Hermione flushed, but when she went to drop his hand, he wouldn't let go.

"I guess not," Draco said, taking a deep breath. He squared his shoulders, centering himself, before exhaling. "So. Where to next, Hermione?"

As Hermione guided him through the crowds, she wondered when he'd moved from calling her _Granger_ to _Hermione._

* * *

Hermione took Draco to several museums to show him Muggle history, science, and art. However, with no frame of reference, it quickly became evident that Draco was struggling to differentiate between fantasy and reality.

"How did the Muggles fight this creature off?" Draco said, his eyes wide. "It looks too powerful for them to ever prevail."

Hermione came over to him, looking at the painting he was looking at.

"They didn't," Hermione told him. "This is fictional. It's from a story."

"There are real creatures not dissimilar to this," Draco objected. "You're sure?"

"That Cthulhu isn't real? Yes, I'm sure," Hermione said, trying not to let her smile break through. "Come on…"

Draco stopped short in front of a photo series.

"What are these?" he asked. "What story is this monster from?"

"Ah- those are real." Hermione winced. "Those are from the end of World War II. The Americans dropped a bomb that wiped out an entire city in Japan."

Draco looked from the photos of the bright mushroom cloud, the sky blazing and on fire, to stare at Hermione, horrified.

"An entire _city_?" he breathed. "That's- they must have killed thousands-"

"Nearly a hundred thousand people," Hermione said quietly. "Millions died in the war."

Draco looked sick to his stomach for a long moment, before taking a deep breath and meeting her gaze.

"I'd like it if you showed me some other things, now," he said, his voice carefully steady. Understanding, Hermione nodded.

"Let me show you the Natural History part," Hermione said, taking his hand. "I think you'll like this part."

As she led him across the museum to a different wing, she felt Draco's fingers gently entwine with hers.

* * *

Hermione was right; Draco enjoyed the Natural History museum much more. He'd been incredulous to learn that dinosaurs had been real creatures, and he'd spent the afternoon devouring the informational placards, learning about the eras of the earth, the dinosaurs, and evolution. He was animatedly talking about it now as they ate dinner from a chip shop they'd found not far from the museum, wanting to escape the cold.

"-but they _might have,_ Hermione!" Draco said. "Muggle scientists could probably test it, right? Take their blood or something?"

"Sure, but Draco, in order to test if dragons are descended from dinosaurs," Hermione said, "you'd have to _tell_ the Mugglesthat_ dragons actually exist._"

"Oh." Draco's face fell, then perked up. "We could take the blood ourselves, then! Some places sell it – we could do the test ourselves–"

His excitement and animation over his idea was oddly endearing, and when Draco paused to give her a quizzical look, Hermione abruptly realized she had been smiling at him vacantly.

"Ah, sorry," she said, shaking herself out of it quickly. She blushed. "I was just thinking."

"Thinking? _Hermione Granger?_" Draco teased. "_Never_."

"Oh, shut it," Hermione retorted, but her voice lacked any real heat. "I was just thinking how nice this is. I'm enjoying this."

"You're enjoying teaching a crash-course on all things Muggle to a moron?" Draco said, raising an eyebrow.

"You're not a moron," Hermione said reflexively. "And no, that's not what I meant. It's more…"

She trailed off with a sigh, biting her lip as she looked away.

"More what?" Draco's voice was gentle, even as he prompted her.

Hermione gathered her courage.

"I'm enjoying spending time with you," she told him honestly, biting her lip. "It's _easy_. You're clever, you're smart, you've got a sense of humor… this whole break, we've just been getting along so _well_…"

"Hermione…" Draco took her hand from the table, running his thumb over the back of it in small circles.

"I wish it could have always been like this," Hermione burst out. "Without all the drama. Without all the blood prejudice. Without all the Death Eater shit."

Draco froze, his hand rigid on hers, his eyes like a tempest.

"We could have been _friends_, Draco," Hermione said plaintively. "Don't you ever imagine what it might have been like if things had been different?"

She held his gaze, the moment dragging on, before he tore his eyes away, looking troubled.

Slowly, he resumed rubbing the back of her hand.

"I do think about it," he admitted quietly. "I wonder what my life might have been like, if I hadn't been indoctrinated into such bullshit from birth. Who I might have been friends with, what my life would look like now."

He looked back up at her, and Hermione was caught off-guard by the pain and regret in his eyes.

"I regret most of my life," he told her. "I don't know if I ever actually apologized to you for all of it; I'm sorry for all the awful things I put you through, for all the horrible things I did. I'm sorry for the names, the insults, the curses, the jeering…"

"It's okay, Draco," Hermione said encouragingly. "You're a different person, now."

"It's not okay," Draco said. "Not really. I hurt so many people. I regret so many things. But most of all…"

He turned her hand in his, turning her arm face-up, and slowly, he pushed up her sleeve. Hermione flinched.

"More than anything," he said, "I regret not stopping this."

The word _Mudblood_ stood out in red on her skin, as raw as it looked the day it was carved into her.

"More than anything?" Hermione quipped, trying to tug her arm from him. "Even more than getting the Dark Mark?"

Draco held fast to her arm, and his gaze was steady.

"Yes," he told her. "The Dark Mark… I was raised to that, indoctrinated into it. My mother's life would have been forfeit if I _didn't_ take it. That… there was no good way out of that. But _this…_"

Slowly, his thumb rubbed over the scarring on her arm, and Hermione shivered.

"There was no need for this to happen," he said quietly. "I should have stopped the torture. I _could_ have stopped it, but I was too scared of Bellatrix, so instead, I just watched you writhe in agony."

There was a heavy silence between them.

"I _hate_ myself for it, Hermione." Draco's voice was anguished. "I wish I could go back and fix it, make that not happen to you. I _hate_ myself that I didn't stop it then, and I hate that I can't fix it now."

Hermione tilted her head at him, regarding him slowly.

"Then do better next time."

Draco's eyes flew up to her in alarm. "_Next_ time…?"

"I don't mean next time I'm being tortured," Hermione said, waving her hand dismissively. "Merlin knows I've undergone enough of _that_ for one lifetime. But no – just, next time something awful is happening, stand up and put a stop to what you know is wrong."

Draco looked shocked.

"I know it won't be easy, Draco," Hermione told him, taking both of his hands in hers. "It's _hard_ to stand up for what you believe in. Did you think it was easy for me, staying to fight instead of fleeing England? It's _hard_, but it's _right._"

Her eyes met his, and she could see his breath catch.

"Be someone you can be proud of," Hermione told him, squeezing his hands. "Be someone you like, that others will like. Just take it one day at a time. Make choices you won't regret later, that will make you able to face yourself in the mirror each day."

"I _want_ to." Draco's face was wrenched in angst. "I'm _trying_. But it's so _hard_."

Hermione's face softened, and she gave him the ghost of a smile.

"It'll be okay," she told him quietly. "I believe in you."

Draco looked at her for a long moment, steadily, before a matching ghost of a smile touched his lips.

"I'll follow your lead, then, Hermione," Draco said. "You certainly have a better direction of where you're going in life than me."

Hermione laughed, finally standing from the table, stretching.

"Me?" Hermione dismissed. "Oh, Draco, I have no _idea_ what I want to do after Hogwarts. There are just so many possibilities! I scarcely know where I want to go or what I want to do."

Draco stood as well and gave her a smile – a real, genuine smile, the first she'd seen from him in months, and Hermione felt her heart skip a beat at the sight.

"I don't know either…" Draco admitted.

He reached for her hand, taking it once again, and Hermione felt her breath catch.

"…But I know who I want with me while I find out."

Despite the cold, Hermione's heart felt warm the whole journey home.


End file.
